Zhao Layue carried Yin San's body and walked out of the town, stepping on the green grass, very brisk.

The bright light from the sky reflected a very long shadow on the ground, and then gradually became fainted by the brighter light.

The most important thing in the entire continent was happening, but she didn't look back, just looking at the shallow changes in the shadows in front of her, as if this was even more interesting than the strange phenomenon of heaven and earth.

No one noticed her, and naturally no one saw that her expression finally changed.

Her lips raised slightly and she was smiling.

There were cheers gradually among the peaks.

There seemed to be cheers in the town.

As the world became brighter and louder, her smile became louder and louder, until the shallow dimples on her cheeks were revealed, which was a little cute.

She was really happy and a little regretful.

How great it would be if he could be in the same era as a genius like Master Uncle Zu.

No matter whether you are studying or anything else.

The cheers among the peaks suddenly disappeared.

No surprises.

The silence at this time represents good wishes.

It's like illuminating the light in the world.

Of course, I will feel a little sad after all.

Master Jingyang's uncle ascended.

Zhao Layue finally turned around and looked into the sky.

Looking at the gradually disappearing crack and the sword light that was almost invisible, for some reason, his eyebrows raised slightly.

She looked at the corpse in her hand, and her smile gradually faded, with some doubts and uncertainty.

...

...

There is endless wetness in the clouds and mist, and streams often accompany it.

Not far from Yunji Town, there is a stream. The stream flows around high cliffs and low hills. It travels dozens of miles and re-enteres the wall of another mountain.

I don’t know how far the stream enters the mountain wall. The waterway is getting wider and the light is getting brighter. There is a stone chamber with a rare bright jade on it.

The stone chamber is very simple, with only one stone bed connected to the mountain wall, and there are two rotten futons in front of the bed.

A young man with his hands behind his back, tilted his head to look at the stone bed, and occasionally the wind blew, lifting up his white clothes.

There was a man lying on the stone bed, covered in blood and wounds everywhere, either narrow or wide, deep or shallow. It was impossible to tell which weapon was injured. His clothes were also torn. He could not recognize it as a fabric woven by Tiansilk. The belt was still very complete, with a very light evil spirit that appeared and disappeared from time to time. It was made of the Nether Dragon tendon, with a waist sign tied on it, but it seemed to be carved from ordinary black wood.

This person has no breath and has long been dead. What's strange is that there is always a layer of mist on his face, which is extremely deep and cannot see his face clearly.

The boy stood in front of the stone bed, watching the man remain silent, not knowing what he was thinking.

I don't know how long it took, but he finally spoke.

“It’s really…annoying.”

His voice was very clean, but a little astringent, and his speech was very slow, and he seemed to speak very little.

The light fell in his eyes.

His eyes were like a sea, seemingly calm and clear, but extremely deep and wide, hiding countless storms and waves.

Some are puzzled, some are angry, some are regretful, some are tired, and some are completely inconsistent with age.

After a moment, all the emotions in his eyes disappeared, leaving only peace.

It was like clouds and mist disappeared among the nine peaks, or like those light slurry falling from the sky finally turned into nothingness.

"I envy you a little and can rest well, but I will have to be busy for these years."

The boy in white said to the dead on the stone bed.

The deceased's belt moved slightly, and the wooden sign suddenly disappeared.

A cold light left the stone bed and flew around his body, illuminating the stone chamber continuously, and stopped in front of his eyes after a while.

It was a flying sword, about two feet long, two fingers thick, and the sword body was as smooth as a mirror. There was nothing strange about it, but it gave people an extremely unusual feeling.

The boy in white raised his right hand and the flying sword fell down by itself. With a slight sound, he rolled on his wrist and gradually became darker, like an ordinary bracelet.

Turning around and walking to the stream, the boy in white suddenly remembered what the man said to him back then.

——It is impossible for a person to step into the same river twice.

Is this really the case?

Thinking of this question, he walked into the stream.

...

...

The stream travels through the hillside for countless miles, and walks out on the other side of the mountain, forming a waterfall of more than ten feet high, which is very beautiful.

The boy in white fell from the cliff along the stream and was about to walk on the water, but his feet had already broken through the water and fell into the lake.

It was not until he drifted to the depths of the lake and touched the bottom of the lake that he probably understood what was going on and was a little surprised.

But he didn't seem to know what expression he should use to describe his emotions of surprise, so he looked a little dazed.

The slightly cold lake water had no effect on him. He looked around with his eyes open and saw a stone at the bottom of the lake.

He picked up the stone from the bottom of the lake, walked forward along the terrain, getting closer and closer to the water until he walked out of the lake and came to the shore.

With a muffled sound, the ground trembled, and the water on the shore slightest waves. It was the stone he put down in his arms. You can imagine how heavy the stone was.

He was soaked all over and felt a little uncomfortable. He had thought about it and was about to use the sword torch to dry his body, but found that nothing had appeared.

His hair was still dripping with wet clothes that were close to his body, reminding him that he should start a fire at this time. He then thought that he had never made a fire.

He turned his head and recalled the books he had read many years ago, retelling in a dry voice: "It is necessary to have hay and branches of varying thickness."

Confirm that all the water in his left ear had flowed out, he turned his head to the right, continued to search for those long-standing memories, and said, "If there is no flint, you need crystal or drilling wood."

There was a forest on the shore. He walked into the forest and reached out to caress the fallen trees rustled down, and soon piled up into a small hill.

He picked out the smoothest piece of wood from it, putting on a few strands of silk under the bark, and his thoughts moved slightly, and the silver bracelet on his wrist turned into the small sword again, hovering over it.

The sharp sword edge pressed against the wood chips through the fleece, and it rotated at an unimaginable speed. Soon there was Mars, then blue smoke, and then flames rose.

The clothes were resting on the branches and steamed out.

Looking at the thickness and speed of the steam, the boy easily calculated that it would take three minutes before the clothes could be completely dried.

What he used to do during this period was something he didn't need to think about.

All time has only one purpose for him.

He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes and began to meditate and practice, which seemed particularly natural.

But the next moment he opened his eyes and thought blankly, what is the entry method?
Chapter completed!